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WHEREEVER THE BIG ONES BITE
When I was young and before girls
I loved to go fish the river.
Creeks and ponds where alright to
Anywhere that would deliver.
Fingerlings four to five inches long
Are what trophies love to feast on.
Trout line or pole made no difference
Bate up and the fight was on.
Sometimes I would strike a fire
To help keep warm in the night.
Spring, summer, fall, I was eager to go
Wherever the big ones bite.
By Tom Zart
Author of
LOVE WAR AND MORE
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